Maybe a Three-Time Thing?
by DottieP
Summary: Set a month after "I Do," Quinn decides to make use of those train passes and visits Santana in New York.
1. Chapter 1

Maybe a Three-Time Thing?

Author's Note: Set a month after "I Do"

The banging on the loft door resounded throughout the apartment. Santana contemplated getting up from her comfortable position on the couch, reading, but then thought against it; Rachel was, after all, closer. A couple of more knocks came a few seconds later.

"You gonna get that?" Santana yelled. All she heard in a response was a huff coming from somewhere near the kitchen then deliberate stomping to the door. Santana only rolled her eyes at her roommate's diva behavior.

Rachel pulled the door open and a beaming smile instantly crossed her face.

"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed and threw her arms around her friend's neck, causing them both to stumble back. "I'm so glad that you're making use of those train tickets that I got you. Are you planning on staying the weekend? There are so many things we could do, sights to see…"

"Whoa, Rachel," Quinn began as she tried to politely dislodge herself from Rachel's friendly yet eager grasp. "Is Santana around?"

"Oh," Rachel said dejectedly. "Yeah, she's here…in the back on the couch." She moved to the side to allow Quinn entrance.

Once inside, Quinn stopped and dropped her bag, knowing that she had to do a little damage control. "Look, Rachel, I'm happy to see you and maybe we can hang out a bit while I'm here, but I actually wanted to see Santana. I hope you understand."

"Of course, Quinn. You and Santana are very close friends." Rachel's response was barely above a whisper, and her eyes had yet to meet Quinn's again. She looked like a scolded puppy, Quinn thought.

"How about the three of us go to dinner sometime this weekend?" Quinn offered. She figured that with three nights in town that this invitation would appease Rachel.

It worked. Rachel beamed again. "That would be wonderful."

"Great," Quinn said and instantly turned around to go find Santana. She stopped at the end of the couch, folded her arms, and leaned her hip against the arm nearly bumping Santana's resting feet. "Wow, you're in New York for only two months, and you're in here reading."

The book fell clumsily from Santana's hands at the sound of Quinn's smooth, warm voice. Their eyes met, and Santana couldn't help but grace Quinn with a bright smile. "What are you doing here?" The question was far from accusatory; in fact, Quinn was instantly reminded of the raspy, low, sexy voice in that hotel room only a month ago.

"Well, I was in my dorm room, studying, and I kept getting distracted," Quinn started, the flirtation clear in her voice. "And, now I'm here."

"Uh huh," Santana responded, adding an eyebrow raise at the end as if to say, "Bullshit, Fabray."

"Maybe a three-time thing?" Quinn nearly whispered.

Santana was off of the couch immediately and moved right into Quinn's personal space. "Are you staying the whole weekend?" she asked.

"I can," Quinn answered coyly.

"Then, we can probably stop counting; we're gonna lose track." She punctuated her statement by wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist and pulling her closer. Quinn's arms responded automatically and looped around Santana's neck. Their bodies melded together as if they had done it a hundred times before. "You sure about this?"

"You think I would have come all the way down here if I wasn't?"

"Good point."

"We could be getting into dangerous territory here."

Santana smirked, "We're smart girls, Q; I think we can figure it out." The last few words were murmured as she brushed her lips against Quinn's. She felt rather than heard the desperate whimper from Quinn as if she had been waiting a month for this. And, she had; it was all Quinn could think about, during class, studying, whenever. Santana's mouth, in particular, haunted Quinn, taunting her, teasing her with memories of how good it felt to be worshipped by soft lips and a skilled tongue. The kiss was as heated and intense as Quinn remembered. Now, though, gone was the haze of alcohol, of the pressure of a checkout time, of friends just down the hall. Quinn smiled into the kiss as the next thought entered her mind.

"What?" Santana pulled back with her own small grin.

"I was just thinking," Quinn said, her voice teetering on that bedroom voice that made Santana wet, "we don't have to be anywhere; we have the whole weekend."

Santana shook her head once and smiled. "See, smart girl." She held Quinn's eyes for a moment, watching the pupils dilate just a bit more, and Santana inhaled slightly at the knowledge that she caused that reaction. "Come here," she sighed and pulled Quinn back into a languid, deep kiss.

"Hey, you guys, I was thin…" Rachel stopped mid-word and gasped at what was before her. Her two friends locked in a passionate embrace in the middle of her living room. "Ahem," she said rather loudly.

The two women reluctantly broke apart, and Rachel could have sworn that she heard one of them growl at her.

"What, Rachel?" Santana demanded.

"I…um. What…what is this?" she stumbled over the words and motioned back and forth with her hand at the two of them.

"What does it look like?" Quinn replied, clearly attempting to stay calm and not rip Rachel's head off for the intrusion.

"Are you two, like, dating now?"

Quinn and Santana looked at each other and mirrored the same expression—deer in the headlights.

"Well, we haven't really…" Santana tried.

"It's not something that we want to really, you know, label right now," Quinn added, saving Santana who was clearly unsure of herself at the moment.

Rachel just stared at them, and both women could swear that they could see the wheels churning inside that overactive mind. "Okay then. I will be supportive of you both in anyway that I can; I just want my friends to be happy, no matter how much I will need to process this." She grinned at them to emphasize her words. They stared back at her, clearly waiting for her to leave them alone. "So, Kurt is at Adam's this weekend, so maybe you two should take his room, you know for privacy. I'll make myself scarce right now, but I'll be back in a couple of hours. I'll be loud, so I don't want to walk in on anything." She giggled at this, and the other two women just shook their heads fondly at her.

She turned to leave but stopped a few steps later. "Also, could you please not have sex on any of the eating surfaces? That's just unsanitary." This time, Santana and Quinn laughed, and Quinn even rolled her eyes for good measure.

"I can't make any promises, Berry!" Santana tossed back jokingly. Rachel grabbed her coat and purse and left them alone.

Quinn tangled her fingers in Santana's hair and drew her closer. She hummed as she slowly leaned in, "Finally." Santana swallowed the whispered word and her own moan followed as Quinn's tongue slid over hers. Just from this kiss, Santana knew that her words from earlier would be true: there was no way that they could keep count now.


	2. Chapter 2

Just as quickly as Rachel had left, the world fell away, and the two women became enveloped in a cloud of lust and pure need. Quinn's hands slipped away from Santana's neck and drifted softly down, over a collarbone that Quinn could feel through the thin white t-shirt then hesitantly grazing over Santana's perfect tits causing both of women to quietly moan. Quinn's hands kept ghosting downwards until small but strong fingers curled around one of her wrists and tugged upwards.

Quinn momentarily stopped kissing Santana when her hand was placed deliberately over one breast; she could immediately feel a hard nipple pushing against her palm. She hesitated once again.

Santana pulled back slightly; her eyes were still closed. "Please," she pleaded in a gravelly voice. Quinn's hand responded on its own accord to the single word, and her mouth found Santana's so quickly and with such force that Santana stumbled into the arm of the couch. Quinn wavered a bit before kneading with pressure, earning a groan from Santana.

Instantly, Quinn's mind drifted back to the hotel room and to the first time that she heard that noise from Santana; she never thought anything could sound that sexy: Santana's head was between Quinn's legs, and the carnal groan came right after Santana's tongue first slid through thick wetness and grazed Quinn's hard, pulsing clit.

With that memory, Quinn pitched the hard nipple and was rewarded with that hypnotic sound again. Now, she couldn't stop; she needed to hear it over and over again. Santana's hips started moving against Quinn's thigh; the rough material of her jeans scratched Quinn's soft skin in a delicious way that made Quinn feel alive. As she continued teasing Santana with alternating pitches and twists, her other hand slid over the curve of Santana's hip and down over her ass. She tugged and felt Santana grind against her leg.

"You know we have a bed," Santana said between kisses.

"Uh huh," Quinn replied, clearly distracted by the sensory overload that she was experiencing.

Santana pushed herself off of the arm of the couch, moving Quinn backwards in the process. Quinn's hands hadn't moved; she was latched on to Santana, and Santana was very reluctant to break any contact.

"Bed," Santana said firmly but with a playful grin on her face.

"Mmhmm," Quinn mumbled. In response, Santana grabbed Quinn's arms, detached herself, and then spun Quinn around to face the direction of the bedroom.

"Go," Santana directed, smacking Quinn's ass for emphasis.

Quinn looked over her shoulder as she reached back for Santana's hands, needing to touch her. "You know, I really liked that dress that you wore at the wedding. But, I gotta say, I think I like you in those jeans much better."

"Oh yeah? Trying to get into my pants again?"

Quinn pivoted, stopped them in the doorway of the bedroom, and reached for the button of Santana's jeans. "I'm trying to get you out of your pants and to get you on top of me," Quinn husked.

Santana's only rational response was a whimper and to shove Quinn against the doorframe. She hovered her lips over Quinn's before kissing her with a renewed vigor; when she grazed her teeth over Quinn's bottom lip and sucked slightly, the reaction that she got almost made her come right then and there. All at once, Quinn's body arched off of the wooden doorframe, her arm stretched above her head looking for something to cling to, and the moan that followed came from the back of her throat.

Santana quickly recalled how much she loved seeing Quinn's body move like that; her back shifted that way, pushing her tits into the air, when she first came around Santana's tongue a month ago. The nail marks that Santana left in both of Quinn's hips in an effort to keep some semblance of control made Santana smile into their heated kiss.

Quinn felt it and pulled back, gasping for breath. "What?" She couldn't help but smile at how utterly turned on Santana looked at the moment.

"Just remembering is all." Santana leaned back in for a kiss, but a hand on her chest stopped her.

"Remembering what?" Quinn's tone was both curious and lighthearted.

"You…in the hotel." The memory flooded back, and Santana gently molded her body against Quinn's, driving Quinn's back into the doorframe. At the feel of the wood rubbing roughly against her back through the thin layer of her cardigan, Quinn groaned softly and closed her eyes for a split second.

She licked her lips before she spoke. "What about me in the hotel?"

Santana hummed as her hands moved up and down Quinn's sides. "How you looked with your back arched, kinda like you just did."

"Mmm," Quinn responded knowingly. A slight blush crept across her cheeks. "Well, I wouldn't argue if you wanted to do _that_ again."

Santana chuckled and grabbed Quinn's hands to lead them to the bed. "Oh, you wouldn't argue?" she asked sarcastically.

"Nope," Quinn replied with a playful tone and shake of the head.

At the edge of the bed, Santana pulled their bodies together. She leaned forward slowly, teasingly, and just before her lips met Quinn's, she moved to Quinn's long, supple neck. Quinn sighed at the soft, wet, slow kisses, but her sigh quickly transformed to a moan when she felt those full lips suck on her earlobe.

"Fuck," Quinn mumbled as her eyes drifted shut.

"You want me to go down on you again?"

"God yes," Quinn answered without hesitation and with desperation in her voice.

"I want you to say it." Santana sucked on Quinn's earlobe and then slightly bit down.

Quinn was learning more things about herself during her short time with Santana than at any other time that she could remember. The teeth on her earlobe made her shiver and made her realize, along with the feeling of the rough wood of the doorframe, that Quinn Fabray might, in fact, like it a little rough. This small epiphany gave her a sense of confidence that she hadn't felt until this point; Santana was the more experienced one, but she now grasped that as long as she expressed what she wanted that they would both be happy. It wasn't about who knew more; it was about how they made each other feel. And, right now, Quinn wanted to feel Santana's mouth all over her.

With Santana still kissing her neck, Quinn tried to focus. "I want you to go down on me, Santana." This earned her a sensual moan, and she knew that she had to continue.

"I want to feel your perfect mouth on me."

A louder groan.

"I want you to make me come over and over again."

A near-growl.

"I want your tongue so deep inside me."

This time, Santana growled and bit down on the sensitive skin of Quinn's neck, which caused Quinn to quietly cry out in pure pleasure.

Santana grabbed the cardigan and nearly tore it from Quinn's shoulders and arms.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Quinn." Santana's body was buzzing; every nerve danced under the surface of her skin. She couldn't recall a time when she was this turned on; she knew that this was going to be extraordinarily better than their first time (well, first two times). Quinn simply smiled at her, waiting.

With a small shove, Quinn fell back on to the bed, and she laughed softly as Santana climbed on all fours and leaned over her.

"You have far too many clothes on," Quinn pointed out.

"So do you," Santana whispered and looked down between them as if to confirm her statement.

"You should do something about that."

"Yeah?" Santana leaned down for a small kiss, and when she pulled away, she hovered and relished the feeling of the energy pulsing between them.

"Take your clothes off for me." Santana grinned in response; she liked this assertive side of Quinn.


	3. Chapter 3

"You want me to strip for you?" Santana asked incredulously, but the smirk on her face told a different story.

"Mmhmm. Slowly," Quinn insisted, her tone recalling her HBIC voice with which Santana was all too familiar. Now, though, instead of intimidating, Santana, in this moment, simply found it incredibly hot.

Santana laughed again. "Where was this side of you last month?" She started to crawl backwards, but Quinn grabbed the front of her t-shirt, stopping her. When Santana was back where Quinn wanted her, she leaned up on her elbows, pushing herself towards Santana. The kiss was brief but full of promise and hunger.

"I know what I want now; Before, in that hotel, I knew that I wanted _you_ and to know what it was like." She paused, shifting her weight on her elbows and pushing her chest up a little. She stretched her leg, dragging one against Santana's knee.

"But now…?" Santana prompted, with a hint of apprehension in her voice.

"But now," Quinn asserted confidently and then tightened her grip on Santana's t-shirt, tugging slightly, "I know what it's like and I know that I want more." She inhaled faintly. "I want more _you_." Santana only closed her eyes in response, causing Quinn to smirk at the clearly aroused reaction from her friend. "So," Quinn continued and moved her hand up Santana's shoulder, along her neck, and then tangled her fingers into thick, dark hair, "you should get rid of those clothes."

Santana wasn't sure how much longer she could maintain any semblance of control. She looked meaningfully at Quinn, and her serious countenance caused a bit of trepidation in Quinn. She sighed, "Quinn, I gotta be honest with you; I don't think I can give you a strip tease right now." Quinn's face scrunched up in both confusion and disbelief, and she looked like she wanted to say something, to protest, but Santana preempted that with a kiss. "I can't because I can't wait. I _need_ to be with you. I want to give you what you want." She bent down for another kiss, and with her lips brushing against Quinn's, she added, "I want my tongue inside you."

Quinn closed whatever distance was left between them and yanked Santana into a fiery kiss that held any response that she had. Quinn pulled Santana's shirt again and mumbled, "Off" in between desperate, needy kisses. Santana scrambled so quickly that her knee slipped off of the bed, and she barely saved herself from crashing to the hardwood floor on her ass. Quinn's laugh wasn't derisive but warm; she couldn't help but find Santana's mix of eagerness and arousal absolutely adorable and extremely alluring—someone wanted her this badly.

Santana struggled to get out of her jeans that may as well have been painted on while Quinn simply watched. Santana finally looked up as she hopped on one leg pulling the jeans off. "What?"

"You," Quinn replied, her grin growing as Santana gripped the bottom of her t-shirt.

"What about me?" She whipped the shirt off and tossed it haphazardly. Now clad in only a bra and underwear, she moved back to the bed.

"You're adorable and incredibly sexy." Quinn leered at the woman standing over her. "I never thought I'd say that about you." Quinn's laugh that followed seemed more like a reflex than anything.

"Funny," Santana retorted with an obvious sarcastic tone. "You still aren't naked by the way."

"Uh huh," Quinn responded then bit her bottom lip coyly. "You should do something about that," she added, dropping her voice to a raspy whisper.

Santana didn't hesitate; she pulled Quinn to the edge of the bed by her calves, and Quinn hummed in pleasure at Santana's aggressiveness. She was then pulled up by her wrists, and Santana leaned down, cupped Quinn's face with both hands, captured her mouth with a wet kiss, and murmured, "You could, you know, help; this dress is a pain in the ass." Quinn giggled and reached behind to her to unzip the dress. Santana pushed the dress off of Quinn's torso then slid it off of her legs before tossing it behind her. Quinn gave her a sideways look as if to scold her for treating her clothes that way, but Santana only shrugged then wrapped her arms around Quinn to remove her bra. Quinn shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully.

Left only in her underwear and feeling incredibly vulnerable under Santana's gaze, Quinn felt the flush spread across her body. Santana simply looked, feeling her arousal grow as she took the time to notice how exceptionally beautiful Quinn truly was. She sighed, and with one hand, she pushed Quinn back down onto the bed. Almost before Quinn's head hit the mattress, Santana crawled on top of her then quickly leaned forward to capture a hard nipple between her lips. Quinn moaned and arched up, silently asking for more. Her hands slid into Santana's hair, and she relaxed under Santana's talented mouth.

Santana dragged her teeth roughly against an impossibly hard nipple, and Quinn hissed then responded by slipping her hand down Santana's neck to her shoulder. She snapped Santana's bra strap, effectively catching Santana's attention.

"What the hell?" Santana exclaimed through an emerging laugh.

"Off," Quinn demanded, "all of it." She ran her hand over Santana's ass to make her more point even clearer. Like before, Santana complied immediately and rather comically, shrugging off her bra and yanking her underwear off then tossing the clothing behind her. While she was upright on her knees, she removed Quinn's baby blue cotton boy shorts (though, she initially contemplated simply tearing them off).

Once she settled back on top of Quinn, free from the barrier of clothes, Santana straddled Quinn's thigh, which encouraged Quinn to bring her opposite leg up around Santana's hip. Santana ground her hips down, and the warm wetness that Quinn immediately felt that coated her upper thigh made her moan. Their breasts pushed together, sending shots of pleasure through each of them.

"Fuck, you feel good," Quinn groaned. Santana responded with a roll of her hips, spreading herself all over Quinn's thigh, and began kissing up Quinn's neck to her ear.

"So do you," Santana answered, "I can't wait to taste you again." She sucked Quinn's earlobe, and Quinn became overwhelmed by the mix of Santana's mouth on her ear and her words. The noise that escaped Quinn's lips only served to fuel Santana on, and she continued the slow, sensual move of her hips. Quinn scrunched her face in frustration; it was all too much. She recalled a similar feeling from four weeks ago, but now, that feeling multiplied and grew more intense. She wove her fingers through Santana's hair and gave a small tug; Santana briefly pulled from her haze.

"Hmm?" Santana asked then returned to Quinn's neck.

"I need," Quinn started but interrupted herself with a whimper as Santana ran her tongue along the protruding tendon pulsing in Quinn's neck. "I need you," she finally eked out. She then arched up into Santana, pushing their tits together with more pressure, and rolled her hips upwards. She gripped Santana's hair again but pushed slightly downwards, hoping to convey her desire in that simple gesture. She immediately felt Santana's smile against her neck.

"Demanding," Santana quipped.

"Shut up. I haven't stopped thinking about incredible you felt. I _need_ that again."

"Fuck," Santana mumbled against Quinn's warm skin as she started to slide downwards. Her mouth searched out Quinn's nipples quickly before continuing its path. Just before Santana's shoulders met her thighs, Quinn's legs parted in anticipation, and the shift wasn't lost on Santana who glanced down to take stock of their position. She could feel her mouth starting to water.

Santana moaned softly as she slipped her shoulders underneath Quinn's thighs. "You aren't the only one who's been thinking about this."

Quinn hummed in acknowledgement but was too keyed up to really focus on words. All she could do was move her hands to find purchase in Santana's hair once again. When she felt a gentle scratch of fingernails against her scalp, Santana inhaled deeply, which caused Quinn to look down. She was immediately struck by how entranced and aroused Santana looked. Quinn felt like she was being studied, and when Santana ran a single finger through swollen folds then groaned at the abundant wetness that she found, Quinn couldn't contain the arch of her back and the low rumble of a moan that began at the back of her throat.

Santana whimpered then brought that finger to her mouth to lick it clean. "God, I almost forgot how good you taste," she muttered around the finger in her mouth.

"Fuck," Quinn whined at both the display and Santana's words. "Please, Santana." She gave a slight push on Santana's head and got the response that she wanted—a soft, warm tongue flush against her open, waiting entrance. That same tongue deliberately trailed up to her throbbing clit, and the vibration from Santana's animalist groan of pleasure that followed sent a current through Quinn.

Quinn started grinding her hips upwards while Santana explored. Once Santana wrapped her full lips around Quinn's hard clit and sucked, Quinn's eyes involuntarily rolled back and her jaw slacked in pure bliss. She thought that it get couldn't any better than this, but then the combination of Santana's leisurely sucking and the firm pressure of her tongue was nearly too much. She felt a (now) familiar warmth begin to spread through her body, and a smile that came from sheer pleasure and anticipation made its way across her face.

"Don't stop, please," Quinn pleaded. Santana whimpered and increased the pressure of her tongue, and with one deliberate stroke, the tip of her tongue found the spot on Quinn's hypersensitive clit that made her feel like someone just lit her on fire. Quinn grunted and dug her nails into Santana's scalp, pulling her impossibly closer. "Holy fuck, yes," Quinn cried out; her orgasm ripped through with a explosive force. Santana didn't stop as Quinn bucked against her mouth and chin; she tried to pin Quinn's hips down but loved how the other woman moved with utter abandon.

Santana glanced up and growled at the sight of Quinn—at the height of ecstasy—and with her back bowed and her hair tossed wildly, Santana thought that she looked like she had been thoroughly fucked. That smug grin emerged even as she continued to lavish attention to Quinn's clit. Neither wanted it to end, and as Quinn started to come down, Santana trailed her fingers of one hand along the inside of Quinn's thigh, and Quinn, who didn't really where or who she was at the moment, didn't take notice of the movement.

But, when she felt a single finger slide easily into her, she knew immediately that she would come hard within minutes. "Yes," she hissed as Santana slowly started fucking her, "Don't you dare stop."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: As I'm sure you've gathered thus far, this story is mostly about the sex, but I do have plans for a little interaction with Rachel again as well as Kurt.

While she watched Quinn react, Santana couldn't help grinding her hips against the bed in search of a little relief and that exquisite friction. When Quinn started moving and pushing down on her fingers, Santana leaned back down to suck on Quinn's clit while adding another finger. Quinn's head shot up off of the pillow, and her eyes bugged out at the combination of those actions; it was a thoroughly overpowering sensation, and she felt like she forgot how to breathe.

"Oh my god," Quinn exhaled, and she repeated these words a few more times in between gasps. "Shit, you really better not fucking stop," Quinn exclaimed. This only encouraged Santana, who was determined to make Quinn come harder this time. She used her free hand to hold Quinn's hip as still as she possibly could while she developed a rhythm.

The flat of Santana's tongue worked over Quinn's pulsing clit in sync with deep and purposeful thrusts; she curled her fingers on each pass, savoring how Quinn throbbed against her tongue and clenched around her fingers. Santana began to feel lightheaded, becoming drunk on Quinn's taste with each move and with each moan.

A grunt from Quinn drew Santana slightly out of her intoxicated state; Quinn then tightened the grip in Santana's hair and strained her neck and back, the tendons popping against taut skin. "Harder," Quinn begged through gritted teeth. Santana whimpered at the command and drove her fingers harder into Quinn's heat. The fingers in her hair increased their hold as Santana pushed Quinn closer to the brink.

Quinn's clouded brain could really only focus on the feeling of the back of Santana's hand pounding into her swollen, wet skin over and over again. She realized momentarily that she might even be a little sore or bruised afterwards, and this thought only made her wetter, which Santana noticed, groaning as she felt an extra gush cover her fingers and hand.

The sounds nearly echoed off of the loft's brick walls, and it then dawned on Quinn that she loved hearing Santana fucking her, hearing how wet she really was. With that thought, she growled, "Harder. Fuck…harder."

Santana immediately glanced up as if to question Quinn's insistent request. Quinn met her gaze, somehow knowing that Santana's eyes were on her. Time froze. Santana raised an eyebrow while never stopping her movements. "Harder," Quinn whispered, her voice hoarse. "Please."

With a carnal growl that was becoming an all too familiar sound to Quinn, Santana redoubled her efforts and fucked Quinn with longer, deeper, harder strokes, causing the muscles in her forearms to pop under a growing, thin layer of sweat. As the cacophony of grunts and nearly indecipherable profanity tumbled from Quinn's mouth, Santana slipped back into that intoxicated fog from which she didn't want to leave again.

She then detached her lips from Quinn's engorged clit to look up once again. "Come for me, Quinn," Santana rasped. Quinn made a noise that was somewhere between a whine and whimper when Santana uttered those words then reclaimed Quinn's clit with her mouth. Her body reacted almost violently, jolting up, and her hands flew from Santana's head and slammed into the wooden antique headboard behind her. She could have sworn that she heard shards of wood fall to the floor from the forceful contact with the brick wall.

Every muscle tensed as her orgasm consumed every nerve; she screamed Santana's name loud enough to cause her voice to crack. Then, she was floating, as if she was watching herself being wracked by the most intense orgasm that she ever experienced; it was one of the most surreal and erotic experiences of her life.

Quinn then watched herself return reality, which was an odd feeling in itself; her eyes were still closed, and she couldn't contain the smile that emerged on her face. She was pulled from this wholly blissful state by a low, soft chuckle. Quinn blinked her eyes open; the grin never left her face. "You look very satisfied with yourself," she said, her voice still throaty.

That same laugh came again. "I think I should be, don't you?" Santana quipped. Now, it was Quinn's turn to laugh.

She sighed. "Definitely. That was incredible. I still can't feel parts of my body."

Santana crawled up, and as she did, she straddled one of Quinn's thighs. For a brief second, the apex of her legs grazed Quinn's skin, and then, Quinn felt Santana drip on to her thigh. Quinn reacted with a sharp inhale, which was quickly followed by a lazy, wet kiss from Santana. Quinn hands slumped away from the headboard and slid down Santana's shoulders then arms, and finally brushed along the sides of Santana's breasts. She then moved one hand around to grab Santana's ass and glided the other down her stomach, causing Santana's abs to twitch at the delicate touch. As if on its own accord, her hand dropped to the top of Santana's thigh, and then she ghosted her fingers back and forth over the sensitive skin where her thigh and hip met.

Santana broke the kiss. "What are you doing?" she whispered, her lips brushing Quinn's as she spoke.

Quinn hummed, the anticipation of touching Santana almost becoming too much. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"You don't have…"

"I _want_ to," Quinn asserted.

"You know what you're doing?" Santana taunted.

"I didn't hear you complaining last month."

"True," Santana conceded and gave Quinn a small smile.

"I thought I was a pretty quick learner, and let's face it, I go to Yale, so I'm highly intelligent." She matched Santana's grin. "Therefore, I think you should shut up," she arched up and thoroughly kissed Santana, "and roll over."

Santana acquiesced rather quickly, and as she settled into the pillow, Quinn climbed on top of her, straddling her stomach. She beamed down at the other woman who wore a look that Quinn deciphered as an odd mix of absolute arousal and curiosity.

"I kinda like this," Quinn said with a smirk.

"Like what?" Santana asked then shifted under Quinn, sliding her hands up and down Quinn's thighs.

"You underneath me."

Santana snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well don't get used it."

Quinn responded by leaning down and sucking on Santana's full bottom lip before whispering, "I know you, Santana. You like this, so stop rolling your eyes at me and let me show you what I've learned."


	5. Chapter 5

Santana's body reacted to Quinn's words, twitching and nerves tingling, and she hummed in pleasure before she pulled Quinn down for an almost lewd kiss. She tried to convey that she wanted Quinn to touch her, that Quinn should feel safe with her. With that thought, she withdrew slightly just as Quinn was becoming more aggressive and shifting the dynamic to take control even more; Santana whispered against Quinn's lips, "Show me." She felt rather than saw Quinn's smile before their mouths collided again in a carnal kiss.

As they battled for dominance—Santana nipping at Quinn's bottom lip with her teeth while Quinn couldn't help but slide her tongue around Santana's as if she was trying to consume her—Quinn's hand drifted inch by inch; her fingers finally finding impossibly silky, warm, wet skin. Quinn left her fingers hovering there; the lingering made Santana desperate, and she flashed back to four weeks prior and to the same delicate touch. At that time, Quinn was tentative, understandably so, but not incapable. Santana could sense the conflicting emotions that Quinn was feeling that night—trepidation, curiosity, and desire.

Santana was then transported back to the present by Quinn's fingers adeptly gliding along her swollen folds. She instantly noticed the difference; the touch was more certain, more wanting. Santana smiled to herself and relaxed more into Quinn's caress; she knew something had changed, and she couldn't wait to see what Quinn would do.

Just as Santana's mind drifted to a blissful blank, Quinn shifted and moved to the side, straddling one of Santana's legs and giving herself more room. Quinn broke the kiss to look down and bit her bottom lip as she watched her own fingers move slowly. Santana followed Quinn's gaze and was mesmerized by the sight as well. She parted her legs even more, silently begging for more. Quinn moaned as she watched more of Santana come into view, and she needed to feel more. She skated her fingers alongside Santana's hardening clit and firmed her touch as she skimmed up and down, all the time watching with rapt interest.

Santana loved being teased like this and as her hips arched on their own accord towards Quinn's hand, she couldn't contain the series of moans that fell from her lips. "God, that feels good," she husked. With that admission, Quinn grew more confident, added another finger, and dropped her middle finger to Santana's dripping entrance. With each upwards motion, she gathered wetness and grazed Santana's clit. The rhythm triggered Santana's body to respond: her legs parted further and her hips circled in uneven jolts, desperate for more of Quinn's deft touch.

Quinn still watched as if hypnotized, and for the first time, she actually felt her mouth water as Santana's scent invaded her senses. This thought registered abruptly, and she temporarily lost the rhythm that she had developed. She'd be lying if she said that she hadn't thought about going down on Santana, but she knew that, right at that moment, she wasn't quite ready for that. But, she thought, she knew that she wanted it if her body reacting was any indication. She tore her eyes away and glanced back up at Santana, whose head was tossed the side, hair disheveled, and breaths coming in short bursts. She increased the pressure on Santana's clit just to see how the other woman would react, and the arch of Santana's hips and the following "Oh Jesus" made Quinn dive into Santana's neck, bite down, and grind her hips on to Santana's thigh.

Santana hissed at the feeling of Quinn's teeth marking her skin. "God yes. Fuck." Quinn moved her lips up to Santana's ear, sucked on her earlobe, and whispered, "What do you want, Santana?" Those words made Santana groan, and she wasn't sure how Quinn's voice got even sexier with a more gravelly, throating sound.

"Fuck me…please," Santana whined. That was what Quinn was waiting to hear, and with a moan, Quinn easily slid two fingers inside Santana, holding them still for a few seconds before drawing them out.

"Like that?" Quinn teased.

"Fuck you," Santana gasped, unadulterated need clearly evident in her voice.

Quinn laughed softly as she entered Santana once again; this time, however, she quickly built a rhythm of long, deep strokes combined with her thumb rubbing Santana's throbbing clit. Quinn buried her face in Santana's neck and simply relished the feeling of Santana clenching around her fingers, the sound of her uneven breathing, and how she moved against her hand.

At that moment, a small epiphany flickered in Quinn's mind: she loved this; she loved fucking Santana; it was addictive and satisfying and somehow made things clear. She didn't meditate on any of those thoughts; she'd save that for later. For now, she savored the soft, wet skin surrounding her fingers, the sounds of skin meeting skin, and the feel of Santana's fingers digging into her back. It was this last sensation that refocused her; she also realized that she loved that delicious mix of pleasure and pain. "Harder," she pleaded to Santana.

"Fuck," Santana eked out between gasps. She increased the pressure, feeling her nails break the supple skin of Quinn's back then dragging them just a hair while adding more force. Quinn almost wailed at the heady feeling, and Santana just dug in more. The amplified sensation caused Quinn to increase her pace, hitting Santana deeper than before.

It was within seconds of this shift that Quinn felt Santana's body tense beneath her, and she pushed herself up on her elbow to watch Santana come undone, but when she curled her fingers, and pressed her thumb down, she felt compelled to capture Santana in a heated kiss. Santana's back went rigid as she bowed off of the mattress, her hips crashing into Quinn's hand. The fingers latched onto Quinn's body only buried themselves further into reddened, raw skin. Both women moaned into the sloppy, wet kiss.

As Santana came down, Quinn slowed her movements, and when she felt Santana's hand flop lazily off of her back, she slowly removed her fingers. Though she was curious about how Santana tasted, she wanted to wait, so she wiped her fingers on the sheet then slid off of Santana to lie on her side. She propped herself up on one elbow and relaxed her head into the palm of her hand; she simply watched Santana enjoy the heavenly afterglow. At that moment, she knew that if she looked in a mirror, she'd see that same smug expression that Santana wore a month ago.

The only sounds in the room were the distant noises of New York City and Santana's breathing, which was finally returning to normal. The serene moment was broken by Santana's abrupt laughter.

"What?" Quinn asked, her own laughter coming to the surface through her words.

"You're good at that," Santana sighed.

"Yale, remember," Quinn quipped.

"Yeah, I doubt you're learning _that_ there. How did you…?"

"I practiced," Quinn replied with a shrug.

"Quinn Fabray, always the perfectionist," Santana joked, shaking her head fondly.

"You're complaining?" The eyebrow raise that Quinn added made Santana smile.

"Hell no!" They giggled. "But, I gotta ask, where, or better yet with who did you practice?"

"With whom," Quinn corrected.

"Shut up. Answer the question."

"Myself."

"So, no string of crunchy granola women's studies majors in and out of your dorm for 'practice'."

The only response from Quinn was a dramatic eye roll. Santana laughed at her own joke. Comfortable silence fell between them briefly. "What did you think about?" Santana inquired quietly.

"No way am I answering that," Quinn answered emphatically, shaking her head.

Santana shoved her playfully. "Come on."

"Forget it. Your ego is big enough as it is."

The laugh that came from Santana at the unintentional omission could only be described as boisterous and rather obnoxious, but then again, Quinn thought, this was Santana. Quinn rolled her eyes again and launched herself on top of Santana if only to get her to stop laughing. She grabbed Santana's wrists and pinned them above her head; this got Santana's attention, and their collective mood pivoted on dime from playful to sensual. Santana moaned softly and arched a little into Quinn who was now straddling her stomach.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Quinn whispered.

"No, I'm a bitch; there's a difference."

"Whatever." Quinn paused then leaned further down. "I thought you'd at least be flattered that you were the subject of my _very_ erotic dreams," she murmured before capturing Santana's mouth with her own. The groan from Santana at both the words and the kiss was the only answer that Quinn needed.

As quickly as she tackled Santana moments earlier, she hopped off of her, leaving the other woman gasping for air and dazed.

"Come on, I want some water or some Gatorade. Get up." Quinn slapped Santana's thigh and smiled in satisfaction at how Santana reacted to her.

"Rude."

Another dramatic eye roll. Quinn grabbed the t-shirt that Santana was wearing earlier and put it on while Santana got up and headed for the door.

"You're not going to put anything on?" Quinn questioned.

"Seriously?"

"Those windows are huge; someone could see," Quinn replied, raising her voice slightly.

"Says the former president of the Celibacy Club who just fucked me into oblivion. Don't go all prude on me now."

Quinn grabbed Santana's underwear off of the floor and tossed them at her. "Put these on at least."

"Fine." She complied, and they walked out of the bedroom.

"Oblivion, huh?" Quinn asked; Santana could hear the smirk in her voice.

"Shut up." Santana quickened her pace to the kitchen and opened the fridge before Quinn caught up with her. She stared into the open appliance; her nipples hardened immediately at the rush of cold air. "We only have one bottle of Gatorade; I guess we'll have to share." She pulled it out, and as she turned around, Quinn was leaning against the counter, looking entirely blissed out. Santana beamed sensually at her, haphazardly placed the bottle on the edge of the sink, and pulled Quinn to her by the wrist.

"What?" Quinn asked, confused by the expression on Santana's.

"Nothing. You just look really hot right now in my t-shirt and nothing else."

"Oh," Quinn replied softly, feeling the blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Yeah, oh," Santana whispered with an affectionate smile. "Come here." She pulled Quinn into a kiss that started slowly, exploratory even. But, when Santana turned them slightly and pinned Quinn against the refrigerator, the kiss shifted just as quickly. The cool metal against Quinn's barely covered back and her bare legs juxtaposed with the heat of Santana's mouth was too much, and she immediately wrapped her arms around Santana's neck and pressed their bodies further together.

"God yes," Santana mumbled against Quinn's mouth and then reached down to pull Quinn's leg up and around her hip. Quinn started rocking her hips, seeking more contact, and Santana pushed her thigh up causing Quinn to grind down. They quickly built a rhythm that was rapidly pushing them to the edge.

At some point, Santana's brain registered some sound that didn't come from the two of them, but the feel of Quinn against her expelled that out of her head.

"Oh my god!" Rachel exclaimed. This time, Santana's brained recognized the intrusion. Quinn whined when Santana pulled her lips away, but the hand holding her thigh around Santana's hip didn't move.

"What did I tell you guys when I left?" Rachel shouted; she had turned her back to them.

"We didn't hear you," Santana said, her annoyance clearly evident.

"I said I'd be loud, didn't I?"

"Obviously not loud enough," Quinn snapped.

"Well, could you both go put some clothes on, please?"

Santana lowered Quinn's leg while she leaned in. She sucked on Quinn's earlobe before whispering, "We're not done here." When Santana stepped away, Quinn gave her a side grin and slight quirk of the eyebrow, simply conveying agreement.

"Fine." The two women walked back to the bedroom. A few minutes later, they emerged wearing boxers and t-shirts. Quinn briefly argued that they would look like they planned on matching and would look ridiculous, but Santana made the valid point that this was _Rachel_. "Animal sweaters, remember Q?" was Santana's convincing statement.

When they entered the living room, Rachel's back was to the bedroom. "You can stop averting your eyes now, Rachel; we're decent," Santana called out.

Rachel turned around and smiled, hands firmly planted on her hips. "What did I tell you about eating surfaces?"

"We don't eat on the fridge," Santana quipped.

It was Rachel's turn to roll her eyes at Santana. "Fine." Rachel paused and just looked at them, taking in the tousled hair, slightly smeared eyeliner, and noticeable glow. "Well, it looks like you two had fun while I was gone," she continued as they all sat down in the living room.

Quinn and Santana exchanged a knowing look. "You could say that," Quinn responded with a small grin.

"Good then," Rachel said with a hint of unease in her voice.

An awkward silence fell among them, and Santana shifted uncomfortably. "So…I think Quinn broke Kurt's bed."

Santana received two different looks: Quinn's was a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes while Rachel's was a blend of shock and curiosity.

"So, you know, there's that," Santana added.


	6. Chapter 6

After a rather lengthy diatribe from Rachel about respecting other people's things, the three of them agreed on much needed food. As Rachel was about to suggest that they change and go out to eat, Santana volunteered to cook. Rachel shrugged and agreed, but Quinn just looked at her with shock.

"What? I'm not totally useless," Santana asserted. She got up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen to make dinner.

Rachel leaned forward towards Quinn. "She's actually a rather accomplished cook, Quinn."

"Yeah, I am," Santana yelled from the kitchen. "If I wasn't, we'd all starve." Rachel nodded. "Rachel sets shit on fire, and Kurt only cares about brunch." Another reluctant nod from Rachel.

With that knowledge, Quinn got up, a look of pure fascination on her face, and walked the short distance to the kitchen, leaving Rachel sitting alone.

"You cook now?" Quinn asked almost startling Santana who was still pulling ingredients from the cabinets.

"Don't act so surprised. And, fine, I know how to make, like, six dishes, but we're not dead, so I'm doing something right."

Quinn chuckled and shook her head. "So, what are you making?"

"One of my grandma's dishes. She taught me how to make a few things."

"Hmm."

"You wanna help or just hover there and be annoying?"

Quinn only smiled, quickly kissed Santana only cheek, and turned to rejoin Rachel in the living room.

About 30 minutes later, the comforting smells of cumin and garlic wafted through the apartment. Quinn and Rachel were watching _Friends_ reruns, and occasionally, they would catch Santana quoting one of the lines right along with the dialogue on screen. They would look at each other and smile, shaking their heads ruefully at how beautifully contradictory Santana was—bitchy, passionate, snarky, talented, downright mean, and silly.

Finally, she yelled, "Dinner" and the three of them sat down to eat.

"So what are we having?" Quinn asked as they each got settled in their seats.

"Frijoles Borrachos, but vegan of course," Santana answered, giving Rachel a quick, small grin. "And cilantro-lime rice, and a jicama salad."

"Well, it smells amazing," Quinn complimented. Santana smiled at her, a playful glint in her eye. They ate in silence for a bit, but Santana could tell that her roommate was itching to say something.

"What?" Santana snapped between bites, giving a sideways glance to Rachel.

"Nothing!" Rachel squeaked.

"Bullshit."

Rachel dropped her fork dramatically, the sound ringing longer than expected. "Fine. I have to…I mean, I need to talk about this!"

"Talk about what?" Santana asked, feigning innocence.

"You _know_ what," Rachel snarled lightheartedly. "How did this happen? When did this happen?" Then, she pointedly turned towards Santana, "And finally, how come you didn't tell me?!"

At this point, Quinn and Santana could only look at each other, hoping the other would say something. Neither spoke.

"Quinn, you're more eloquent, with the whole going to Yale and all, why don't you explain this to Rachel." The smartass grin that Santana gave Quinn just made Quinn narrow her eyes at her again.

"Bitch," Quinn mumbled under breath. Santana heard and chuckled. "It was at the wedding," Quinn said to Rachel, sighing afterwards.

"Huh," Rachel responded then cast her eyes down briefly as if in thought.

"What?" Santana asked, her tone a bit harsher than necessary.

"Nothing. I just didn't realize it was so recent."

"What does that mean?" Quinn demanded. Now, Quinn and Santana had pinned Rachel with their own glares.

"Nothing!" Rachel squealed.

"Out with it, Berry," Santana ordered. Rachel pursed her lips together and shook her head. Despite the growth among the three of them, Rachel still feared the other two slightly; she knew Snix still lurked somewhere inside Santana, and Quinn would probably always carry a little bit of the HBIC with her. "Now," Santana added.

"I just…" Rachel started, "Well, I'm just surprised that it didn't happen sooner."

"Seriously?" Quinn inquired incredulously. "What on earth would give you that idea?"

"For real," Santana added.

Rachel shifted a bit in her seat, indicating that the scrutiny was making her uncomfortable. "You two have always been close in this love/hate way." She paused. "And, to an outside observer, one could _possibly_ read that conflict as sexual tension." She shrugged.

"Please, can I slap her?" Santana exclaimed, having turned towards Quinn. She raised her hand, but Quinn grabbed her by the wrist.

"She kinda has a point, Santana." Santana's eyes bugged out of her head. "To an outside observer, I guess I could see that," Quinn clarified, possibly more for herself than anyone.

"Whatever," Santana exhaled, trying to dismiss the idea. "Besides, I was with Brittany up until the beginning of this year, so…"

"Yes, but your relationship with Quinn has always been much different, and if I can just add, though I'm probably signing my death certificate, you and Brittany weren't…" Quinn grabbed Rachel's wrist, shook her head, and gave her an insistent look, telling Rachel to just stop while she was ahead.

Santana reached her hand out and rested it on Quinn's shoulder. "No, Q, I want her to finish. Weren't what?"

"It's your funeral," Quinn quipped, releasing Rachel's hand and then she leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.

Rachel rest her arms on the table and looked meaningfully at Santana; she steeled herself with a dramatic exhale. "Again, this is just my observation," Rachel began and held up a defensive palm at Santana. "It didn't seem like you and Brittany were…on the same plane."

"Are you calling her stupid?" Santana snapped.

"No, not at all. Brittany is unique, but I always felt that you and Quinn were more on an even playing field."

A flurry of emotions passed over Santana's face: anger, hurt, confusion, and finally understanding. "Oh."

Rachel sighed in relief at Santana's reaction.

"I guess that makes sense," Santana stated softly. "I mean, it's not like I didn't know that she was off in her own world. And yeah, there were things that we couldn't talk about, but whatever."

Quinn just nodded along while she looked between Rachel and Santana.

Rachel took another chance. "I hope that this thing with Quinn isn't a way to get Brittany back. I don't want you hurting my friend."

Quinn's eyes bugged out at this; she thought that this would send Santana over the edge. "Shit," she whispered.

"What?" Santana shouted. "Fuck you, Rachel. First of all, _I _broke up with Brittany. Second, I don't want her back; I was just pissed that she found someone first."

The outburst caused Quinn and Rachel to reel back in surprise.

"And, whatever this is with Quinn is about me and Quinn; it has nothing to do with Brittany," she continued emphatically. She shoved herself away from the table and stood up, turning around to walk anywhere but where she was.

Rachel just looked at Quinn, mirroring the frozen look of wonder and shock that Quinn was wearing. She mouthed "sorry" to Quinn before she started clearing the dishes, mostly to find something to do to extract herself from the tension that she created.

Quinn just rolled her eyes in response and went to follow Santana.

"Hey," Quinn called softly, causing Santana to turn around. "You okay?"

Santana closed her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, exhaling as she did. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that."

Quinn was now in front of her and rubbed her bicep in a gesture of comfort. "You have nothing to apologize for. Rachel was out of line; she's the one who needs to apologize, and I'm sure she will."

"Yeah," Santana sighed.

"But, I have to admit that I'm glad she did what she did because it answered a question that I've had since last month."

Santana finally looked her in the eye. "Oh yeah? And what's that?" she asked with a hint of hesitation in her voice.

"About whether this was about Brittany or not."

Santana immediately stepped forward, closing the distance between them. In a rather intimate gesture, she ran her palm softly along Quinn's cheek and held Quinn's gaze. "It's _definitely_ not about her. At all." The silence fell between them; Santana wanted the words to resonate with Quinn, to sink in so Quinn knew that this was the truth. "She's my best friend, always will be, but that's it."

"Okay," Quinn replied quietly. She gave Santana a wistful smile, breaking any residual tension.

"Besides, it doesn't matter because you and I are not dating," Santana bantered.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot," Quinn teased, the smirk on her face growing. Santana took a small step towards Quinn, and Quinn's hands automatically reached out to Santana's hips. "I was going to go shower," Quinn said softly and then stepped to Santana's side and walked towards the bathroom, leaving Santana with a look of mock astonishment.

"What the hell," Santana muttered. "Fucking tease."

Santana heard Quinn's footsteps go silent, and she looked over her shoulder to see Quinn stopped in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Care to join me?" Quinn husked.


	7. Chapter 7

"Not that into that, my ass," Santana quipped under breath as she turned to hurriedly follow Quinn into the bathroom.

"What was that?" Quinn asked with a hint of snark in her voice as she moved the rest of the way into the bathroom, removing her shirt in the process.

"Nothing," Santana chimed back innocently. She grinned as she watched Quinn strip the rest of her clothes off; she let her eyes linger and take in every ounce of skin as it was revealed. Santana became aware that she had never really _looked_ at Quinn before. During sex, it was different; she saw her, but the sensory inundation of the experience blurred her vision. Now, though, she truly saw Quinn for the stunning woman whom she was: smooth, silky skin dotted with a few freckles, the fading remnants of stretch marks, and the subtle ripple of muscle that reminded Santana of how powerful Quinn was when she was leading the Cheerios. As a young woman who had tossed aside the uniform for an Ivy League education, Quinn had settled into her skin; she appeared more confident, if Santana thought that was even possible, but she also didn't seem to be trying to please everyone else, to try and be something that she wasn't. Santana inhaled sharply at the seemingly simple realization: Quinn was beautiful, a fact that she couldn't see before—through the haze of the competitive nature of their relationship or through her own coming out process or through the cloud of a first love.

"You're staring," Quinn stated matter-of-factly as she stepped into the shower.

"What?" Santana replied dumbly.

Quinn laughed. "I said you're staring. Knock it off and get in here."

Santana, still somewhat lost in her thoughts, quickly threw her clothes off then joined Quinn in the shower. Quinn grabbed her hips and moved behind Santana, not releasing her hold.

"Turn on the water," Quinn demanded with quiet authority.

"Oh I see. You want me to get pelted with the cold water while I shield your precious, delicate skin, is that it?"

"Basically," Quinn joked with a soft laugh that was close enough to Santana's ear that it caused her to shiver. Santana instinctively reached one arm behind her and smoothing her palm down Quinn's hip and around to her ass, keeping her close.

"Fine. Bitch." Quinn laughed again and waited for the inevitable yelp that would come from Santana as she turned the water on. When the first rush of water sprung forth, Santana, as Quinn predicted, screeched. "Fuck. Son of a bitch, that's cold!"

Santana pushed back against Quinn to avoid the cold water, though it was quickly warming up. Quinn wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and pulled her back flush against her chest. Her lips found Santana's neck, and she slowly kissed her way from her shoulder to her ear, earning her a throaty moan.

The water had quickly reached a comfortable temperature, so Quinn inched them forward until Santana was bookended by the warm, soothing water and Quinn's equally warm and stimulating mouth on her skin. As Quinn moved her lips back to Santana's ear, her hands gravitated towards Santana's tits. Quinn's eyes were riveted to how the water broke and trickled over the curve of Santana's breasts, how her nipples grew impossibly harder under the sensation of the water, and how her own hands intrinsically moved to cover them. When Quinn's palms grazed Santana's nipples and her fingers gently caressed the sensitive skin around them, Santana's head fell back on to Quinn's shoulder with a groan, and she reached the other hand back to tangle her fingers in Quinn's hair.

With her lips on Santana's earlobe, Quinn whispered in a raspy voice, "Maybe this is why I wanted you in front."

"Jesus," Santana muttered as she arched her back into Quinn's skilled touch. Quinn kneaded Santana's breasts, gradually adding more pressure as she became more turned on by how they felt in her hands and how Santana was responding; she was surprised at how quickly Santana submitted to her. She half expected Santana to try to flip their positions and take control; this thought triggered a flood of wetness between Quinn's legs that she wasn't expecting. Her confidence spiked, and she pinched and twisted both of Santana's nipples at the same time as she felt her aggressive instincts, which had been tempered slightly this past year, take over; Quinn then gently bit down on the span of supple skin where Santana's neck met her shoulder.

The noise that rumbled from the back of Santana's throat rested between a moan and a howl. The piercing, pleasurable pain of the combination of sensations almost made her come. Instead, she yanked on Quinn's hair, pulling her forward and silently begging for more.

"Oh fuck, Quinn," Santana finally groaned. Quinn answered with a throaty noise of her own at having her hair pulled. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her hips rolled forward, grinding into Santana's ass. Within seconds, the moment had shifted from sensual exploration to carnal and almost lewd.

"Do that again," Quinn begged, causing Santana to whimper at the knowledge that Quinn really liked it. She complied, and Quinn whined in her ear and thrust her hips forward again. Even with her body being overwhelmed by everything that Quinn was doing, Santana couldn't help the satisfied grin that slid across her face.

"You really like that?" Santana husked, her voice becoming more hoarse by the minute.

"God yes," Quinn murmured against Santana's neck. "I had no idea."

Santana hummed in response, tugging once more in the hopes that Quinn would move against her ass again; she wasn't disappointed, and this time, the roll of Quinn's hips was more deliberate. Santana could tell that she was incredibly turned on, almost as much as she was. She grabbed one of Quinn's wrists and pulled it down her body.

"Touch me," Santana pleaded, barely above a whisper; she pulled the hair at the base of Quinn's neck as if to solidify her request.

Quinn growled, and multiple things happened to Santana all at once: Quinn bit down on her neck again before running her tongue over the emerging bruise; she nearly violently tweaked and turned Santana's nipple, and she parted Santana's swollen folds and ran one finger from her dripping entrance to her hard clit. The near-wail that crossed Santana's lips echoed off of the bathroom walls. The sound only fueled Quinn on, whose hands were now moving in sync—almost-gentle touches combined with the delicious pleasure-pain on her nipple.

Her wet mouth moved lasciviously up and down Santana's neck, and she relished the sounds coming from the other woman—a heady blend of moans, whimpers, and whines. Quinn couldn't believe that she was the cause, and this moment of cognizance sparked her hips to seek out more friction and relief against Santana's ass.

"You feel amazing," Quinn whispered as the pace quickened and as her fingers moved more deliberately over Santana's pulsing clit. Santana groaned and yanked on Quinn's hair again, which earned her another set of teeth marks somewhere on her shoulder. "I want you to come for me," Quinn insisted with a twist of Santana's nipple and added pressure on her clit.

"Oh fuck," Santana cried. Her body arched, but Quinn held on, keeping Santana under her control, a feeling that she was savoring more and more as Santana bended to her will and her touch.

"Come for me, Santana. Right now." The order was given with a firm tone but with that husky, throaty voice that drove Santana crazy. A few seconds later, Santana obeyed. Quinn's well-timed simultaneous wring of Santana's nipple and roll of Santana's clit between her fingers coaxed an orgasm from Santana that wracked her body with such force that she hung on to Quinn so she wouldn't fall. Quinn felt Santana's nails dig into scalp, which caused her to yelp, and into the skin of her hip, which she knew would cause bruises.

"Yes," Quinn hissed as Santana started to come down. She held on to her, moving her hands to meet around Santana's waist and kissing her neck soothingly. Quinn moved to ear after Santana's body slumped against hers. "That was absolutely incredible." Santana could hear the smile in Quinn's voice, which triggered a grin of her own.

"Holy shit," Santana mumbled.

"No kidding," Quinn answered through a rather stunned chuckle. Santana returned the quiet laugh, and Quinn pulled her even closer. Santana sighed into the intimate embrace; both of them were completely lost in the mutual cloud of desire and satiation that enveloped them. The only sounds were their quiet breathing and the splash of the water against Santana's skin and the porcelain tub. Neither wanted to move. Santana idly played with Quinn's hair, and Quinn ran her lips against the skin of Santana's neck.

Quinn finally broke the blissful silence. "You know, I think you bruised my hip again, and I wouldn't be surprised if a chunk of my hair is missing." Santana felt the curve of Quinn's smile against her neck.

"You complaining?"

"Not at all; you'll just have some explaining to do if anyone asks."

"What do you want me to say? That you like it a little rough and begged me to keep doing it? I have no problem sharing that information."

They both softly laughed, and Quinn tightened her hold around Santana's waist, if only momentarily. "I suppose we should actually shower."

"Yeah, I want to get out of here; I'm pruning."

With that, they reluctantly released each other and quickly showered. They moved as if choreographed back and forth under the water. Santana got out first, wrapped herself in a towel, and went right to the mirror. "Jesus Christ, Q, what the hell did you do to my neck? I look like I've been beaten."

Quinn snorted and peeked her head out from behind the shower curtain. "Shut up, you loved it. Hand me a towel."

Santana ignored her and continued to examine herself in the mirror, running her fingers over the teeth marks and bruises.

"Hey. Towel," Quinn asserted, snapping her fingers to get Santana's attention.

Without turning around, Santana reached down next to her to the basket of towels and chucked it in Quinn's direction.

"Gee, thanks," Quinn retorted with an eyeroll. She quickly towel dried her hair then ran her fingers through it before wrapping the towel around herself. Once she stepped out of the shower, she moved in behind Santana who still stood at the sink and was still gazing into the mirror. "I think they look good," Quinn husked into ear, causing Santana to shudder momentarily.

"You would," Santana answered softly. "Claiming your territory or some shit? You might as well have peed on me, Quinn."

Quinn couldn't help the rather sardonic laugh. She then kissed one of the bruises before pivoting and heading towards the door.

"Don't think you can go all alpha dog on me all the time," Santana quipped as she followed Quinn out.

Within a few steps outside of the bathroom, they were met with an icy glare from Santana's roommate.

"The bathroom, you guys?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Well, duh," Santana joked, and she and Quinn continued walking towards the bedroom.

"Did you break anything there? Do I need to call the landlord to come fix anything?" Rachel yelled after them.

"I don't know. Quinn is really violent; you should probably go in there and check it out," Santana replied flippantly. Quinn snickered as she entered the bedroom.

"You really need to be nicer to her," Quinn said as Santana shut the door behind her.

"I have to balance it out; I'm nice sometimes, but I can't let her go on thinking that it will be a regular thing. I have to keep the upper hand."

"Now, who's the alpha dog?" Quinn quipped as she dropped her towel and slid into bed. Santana raised an eyebrow at her when she did. "Oh, stop it and get in bed," Quinn replied to the silent question. Santana did and immediately propped herself up in her elbow, looking at Quinn. The other woman quickly mirrored her position.

"You know me, Q, I like being on top."

"You also like me being on top," Quinn responded, dropping her voice an octave and running her thumb briefly over Santana's bottom lip.

"I do, just don't tell anyone." Santana's grin simply beamed, and it automatically made Quinn smile back. The silence fell between them, and both knew that they were waiting for the other to start.

"I promise," Quinn whispered in reply, conveying more than a simple answer; those two words conveyed the promise of trust, which was one of the very few elements missing in their complicated relationship. Now, though, after what happened in that shower, they both seemed to know that they could trust each other completely.

"You probably want to talk about this," Santana finally said.

"Well, I don't know about _want_," Quinn returned with a half-smile, "But we probably _should_."

"Yeah," Santana sighed. "So what is this?" she whispered, a hint of fear in her voice.

"Honestly, I don't know. I've never been good at this."

"Well, that makes two of us." They exchanged knowing and rather rueful small smiles.

"Since we're not dating," Quinn began, giving Santana a playful look, "then what are we? Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies?"

Santana glanced down for a second before looking back up into warm hazel eyes. "I think," she paused as if she was trying to gather a bit more courage, "we're more than fuck buddies, don't you?"

Quinn only nodded in agreement, letting out a short breath of relief as she did. Santana flickered her eyes downward again, not sure what to say next.

Quinn ducked her head, trying to catch Santana's eye. "Friends with benefits, then?" she asked hesitantly.

"I could do that," Santana affirmed with a quiet voice. The silence returned as both of them wandered into their own thoughts. They rolled around the implications of such a relationship; both of them knew that this was new territory and weren't quite sure what to do about that.

"Maybe," Quinn said softly, bringing them both back to the present, and then she inhaled before continuing, "Maybe, friends with benefits with potential?" The last few words were almost inaudible because she feared what they meant and how Santana would react to the suggestion.

Santana's eyes snapped to Quinn's in a powerfully meaningful look. Fear, apprehension, and desire all swept across her, one right after the other. Quinn waited, holding her breath, as she watched Santana silently assess the option.

"Yeah," Santana replied, nodding her head and smiling knowingly. "I think I like that better."

* * *

***Author's note: I think I may wrap up this story with the next chapter. I'm contemplating a sequel: Santana visiting Quinn in New Haven. If you have opinions/thoughts about this, PM me or drop a note in my ask box on Tumblr.


	8. Chapter 8

The silence settled between them. The relieved grin slowly spread across Quinn's face, and she held Santana's gaze with utter affection.

"Good then," Quinn asserted softly. Quiet fell upon them again, but this time, it spoke volumes; potential—that word lingered between to the two women, holding so much promise along with a healthy dose of fear coupled with uncertainty.

Quinn reached out and cupped Santana's cheek with perhaps more intimacy than she intended, but, then again, the pact that they had just brokered caused a flood of emotion to run through her (though she wasn't ready to sort through the mess of that flood just yet). She gave Santana a soft smile. "I'm exhausted; I'm going to sleep." She chuckled and dropped her hand before rolling on to her side.

Santana shook her head and smiled. She mimicked Quinn's movement and rested on her side. She took a chance and snaked her arm around Quinn's waist, bringing their bodies together; she sighed as she reveled in Quinn's warmth and calming scent. Santana felt rather than heard Quinn's own sigh just before she sensed fingers wrap around her wrist and lift her arm.

"I'm not sure if friends with benefits with potential cuddle naked," Quinn offered, and Santana could hear the playfulness in her voice, so she wasn't sure if Quinn was being serious or not.

"Are you kidding me?" Santana retorted.

Quinn glanced over her shoulder and looked into big, round questioning eyes. "Well, I think naked cuddling falls under dating, and like you said, we aren't dating, so…" and with that, Quinn fully returned Santana's arm to her side of the bed.

"Fuck this," Santana whined, more out of disappointment than anger. Quinn stole another peek and couldn't help the giggle that crept out when she saw Santana full-on pouting and staring up at the ceiling.

Santana fluttered her eyes closed. "We gotta talk about this, Q," Santana said through a frustrated sigh.

"Go to sleep, Santana," Quinn replied with a whisper, and once again, Santana could tell from Quinn's tone that she was being tested. So, she surrendered for the time being and blew out a dramatic puff of air before taking one last look at Quinn and drifting off.

###

Quinn was being pulled from a dream by the distant sound of voices. She started to feel ire at the intrusion, but the warmth that surrounded her quickly tempered that feeling. Within a few moments of shaking off the dream, she realized that she wasn't just warm; she was cocooned. Santana had, at some point during the night, wrapped herself around Quinn and now had her trapped. As she was simply enjoying the feeling of Santana's skin against hers and relishing the moment (she'd never tell Santana this, of course), the voices were getting louder or closer; she couldn't tell exactly.

"I need to grab a change of clothes, Rachel," Kurt yelled. "I can't go to brunch wearing this." Quinn then heard heeled footsteps approaching the door. Her brain didn't trigger movement in her body quickly enough; the door flew open before she had done anything.

"Oh my god!" Kurt screeched. He stood frozen in his bedroom doorway, mouth agape.

Santana's head shot up off of the pillow, and she stared, in shock, at Kurt. Quinn's eyes mirrored Santana's—bugged out and fearful. Neither woman moved.

"What fresh hell is this?" Kurt muttered, still not moving. Rachel finally caught up and stood behind him, peering over his shoulder. "Someone _please_ explain what is going on," he added in a pleading voice.

Three simultaneous "Ummms" were directed at Kurt in response.

"Thank you for that articulate and clear answer, ladies," Kurt tossed back at them. He started pacing in front of the bed, rubbing his temples, and trying to get himself under control. "I'm not sure where to begin. The two of you are naked. In _my_ bed."

No response, just silence and immobility.

"I don't know if it's the 'you two naked' part or the 'in my bed' part that I'm having difficulty with." He stopped pacing and just glared at Santana and Quinn. It got too quiet. "One of you say something," he yelled at them, getting closer to the bed. "Now!"

Santana looked like she was to say something, and Quinn looked back at her. "Umm, it was Quinn. It was all her," Santana mumbled; the look of shock still hadn't left her face.

"Seriously, Santana?" Quinn asked incredulously and turned more fully to look back at her, which caused the sheet to slip a little, revealing her chest to Kurt and Rachel.

"What?" Santana replied, attempting to pull off innocence.

"Ack!" Kurt shouted. "Sheet. Pull it up." He averted his eyes and the look of disgust on his face made Rachel giggle. "And you!" He continued, this time directing his attention to the smaller woman huddled in the doorway. "Why didn't you tell me that she did this?" He gestured towards to Santana, who gasped in response at the insinuation.

"I didn't…" Santana started but was cut off by Rachel, who held up a hand to stop her.

"Kurt, calm down," Rachel began. "Santana didn't do anything. I told them that they could have your room while you were at Adam's."

"Are you serious, Rachel? What gives you the right to do that?"

"I know," she answered apologetically. "But, I did it out of self-preservation. I didn't want them having sex all over the apartment and in front of me."

Quinn felt Santana move, and she knew that she was about to say something, so Quinn launched her hand backwards and up to cover Santana's mouth. "Just shut up," Quinn whispered through gritted teeth. Santana relaxed against Quinn and returned her attention to the scene playing out in front of them.

"I don't believe this," Kurt muttered and dropped his head, looking at the floor. He inhaled and looked back up at Rachel. "Fine. For now. But, you need to figure something out for the rest of the weekend." He pointed at his roommate and glared. She nodded. He then pivoted and faced the other two women, who still hadn't budged. "And, you two. I really don't where to start with this," he stated and made an exaggerated circling gesture with hand in their direction. "I'm both mortified and intrigued, but I have a brunch to get to and don't have time to deal with this, except to say this: when you get up, burn everything. The sheets, the bed, the floor, the walls. All of it. It's been tainted by god-knows-what."

Santana was about to protest, but Kurt cut her off. "Burn. It," he asserted firmly, over-annunciating both words, and with that, he grabbed a change of clothes and stormed out of his room.

The three women remained still until they heard the bathroom door slam. Rachel winced, and Santana and Quinn breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, do you think he was pissed, or…" Santana quipped.

"Shut up," Rachel barked. "I have to deal with this while you two sit there and cuddle." She huffed and did her own storm out, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

Santana flopped onto her back, and Quinn turned over then propped her head up on her hand, looking down at Santana.

"Well, that was unpleasant," Quinn joked. Santana snorted and nodded in agreement. "I guess we'll have to deal with him eventually." Moments after the last word left her mouth, Quinn and Santana both heard Kurt stomp across the apartment towards the door.

"Burn it!" he screamed before leaving. Santana couldn't hold back the laugh. Quinn joined her, and they both relaxed.

"See what I have to deal with on a daily basis?" Santana stated with a flourish of her hand.

"Please tell me you aren't surprised," Quinn replied.

"Of course not. Sometimes, I just forget how ridiculously dramatic those two can be until they remind me…kinda like they just did."

Quinn only nodded. She unconsciously reached her free hand out and idly traced her fingers over Santana's stomach as she stared off. Santana briefly smiled at the gesture. They relaxed into the quietness and let the calm wash over them, knowing that they would have to get up to go confront Rachel.

"So, naked cuddling is completely off limits?" Santana asked, turning her head slightly towards Quinn.

Quinn grinned down at her. "Like I said, I think it falls under dating."

"No room for negotiation?"

"Maybe. What did you have in mind?"

Santana bit her bottom lip and feigned deep contemplation. "How about cuddling but with clothes on?"

Quinn glanced away as she considered the offer. In all honesty, she wanted the cuddling, of all kinds, but knew that a certain level intimacy would push things too fast, too quickly, and she wasn't ready for that and knew that Santana wasn't either.

"That seems like a fair compromise," Quinn answered softly.

Santana beamed at her. "So, is that what this is gonna be like? Constant negotiation and compromise?" Santana questioned, her tone reflected the serene smile that she wore.

"It seems fitting, doesn't it?" Quinn responded, her own smile matching Santana's—affectionate and promising.

"Why's that?"

"Two ends of the same spectrum and all that," Quinn joked. "It's more _us_."

Santana's laugh was full and throaty. "It definitely is. We can never do anything the easy way."

Quinn laughed quietly in understanding. Their shared laughter faded, and Quinn shifted slightly. She looked down at Santana; her countenance had changed quickly. "Well, one thing maybe," she husked before fully rolling on top of Santana and kissing her thoroughly, causing Santana to moan instinctively.

"Mhmm," Santana answered into the kiss. "The most important thing." Both women smiled, lips brushing as they did. Santana wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck and pulled her back into a lazy, wet kiss.

###

Quinn nearly screamed Santana's name as her head snapped back and her back arched violently off of the bed. She tried desperately to catch her breath as Santana slowly kissed her way up Quinn's body.

"Not again!" yelled a disembodied voice from somewhere on the other side of the bedroom door. Santana hovered above Quinn and laughed. Quinn's eyes were still closed, and she grinned when she heard Santana's laughter.

Then, Quinn's eyes snapped open and looked up at smiling brown eyes. "Oh god, Rachel just heard me come," Quinn exclaimed, the look of shock and embarrassment matching her tone.

Santana chuckled again. "Yeah, she did." She leaned down and kissed Quinn briefly. "So did I. And, I gotta say, it is now one of my favorite sounds."

Quinn's blush swept across her cheeks, and she rolled her eyes at Santana. "Good for you. But, I'm embarrassed. I have to go out there and…" Quinn struggled, searching for words.

"And, what?"

"Look at Rachel in the face and talk to her."

"So, you have to act like a person."

"Shut up. She'll be looking at me probably thinking about _that_."

"Well, if she is then things _just_ got more interesting with my roommate." Santana smirked, which quickly resulted in a slap to her shoulder.

"Eww stop. It's Rachel we're talking about. I do _not_ want to think about her like that." Quinn giggled to herself more out of aversion than anything.

"Neither do I. So, let's not. Instead," Santana started before leaning back down to lightly kiss Quinn's neck. "Let's talk about how fucking hot you sound when you come."

Quinn playfully slapped Santana on the back. "Stop," she drew out, and Santana could tell that Quinn was certainly blushing again; she didn't need to look up from her place nestled against Quinn's skin.

"You are. This is non-negotiable," Santana mumbled. Quinn hummed and arched into Santana, giving her more access and simply savoring how incredibly good Santana's mouth felt against her. Santana continued while Quinn's hands glided up and down her back.

A series of knocks on the door broke their tranquil moment.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Santana exclaimed.

"You guys want to grab some lunch?" Rachel asked meekly.

"Is she serious right now?" Santana whispered.

"Sure, Rachel. We'll be out in a minute!" Quinn replied cheerfully.

"Terrific!" Rachel returned with clear excitement in her voice.

"We will?" Santana quipped as she reared her head back to look down at Quinn.

"We will," Quinn affirmed, rubbing Santana's upper arm.

"Fine," Santana mumbled and climbed off of Quinn.

In silence, they each tossed on some appropriate clothes and went to find Rachel. She was sitting on the couch, feet curled up under her, sipping on tea, and watching some reality show that Quinn couldn't identify.

The two of them sat down and eyed Rachel; no one knew what to say first.

"You're getting really good at interrupting us, Rach," Santana snapped sarcastically.

Rachel just rolled her eyes and ignored her roommate.

"Is Kurt really _that_ mad or was that just his usual drama?" Quinn asked, also ignoring Santana.

Rachel sighed and put her mug down on the coffee table. "He's mad, but he'll get over it. I think he's more curious about you two than anything." She gave them both a meaningful smile.

"Apparently, he's not the only one," Santana joked.

"You're right," Rachel finally said. "Come on, you guys. Tell me what's going on with you two." She actually whined, and Quinn just snickered in response.

"I think we already told you," Santana replied.

"Yeah, some answer that wasn't really an answer. And, when Kurt walked in on you this morning, you seemed awfully cozy," she teased, adding a small, knowing smirk at the end.

She received two simultaneous eye rolls and one snort of derision from Santana. "Whatever," Santana mumbled. Quinn smacked her on the arm.

"You were cuddled together…naked. Like girlfriends," Rachel continued to tease, knowing that she could finally return the favor to Santana after all the torment that she endured from her roommate.

Quinn glared at Rachel, not entirely sure of what to say yet.

"We're _not_ girlfriends," Santana blurted out.

"Are you sure about that, Santana?" Rachel offered with a sideways glance.

"Look, here, Berry…" Santana started, pointing her finger at Rachel, but Quinn's grip on her wrist stopped her before she continued what looked like the beginnings of a Snix rant.

"Let it go," Quinn softly ordered. Santana retracted her arm from Quinn's grip and threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.

"While I appreciate your teasing of Santana, I don't want her to kill you," Quinn addressed to Rachel. "We're friends…with benefits. Does that answer your question?"

"With potential," Santana added in a confident yet questioning voice as she looked at Quinn.

"Right, with potential," Quinn affirmed. They both looked at Rachel, hoping that the response would appease her and they could go eat.

"What does that mean?" Rachel asked.

Quinn blew out a breath and glanced at Santana, her eyes telling Santana that it was her turn to explain.

"Fine," Santana uttered, making a face at Quinn. She returned her attention to Rachel. "It means that we're friends with benefits, but there is room for negotiation about anything more than that." She leaned into Quinn and whispered, "That's right, right?"

Quinn chuckled and nodded, and then, they both set their eyes back to Rachel.

"I guess that makes sense," Rachel said, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"Good," Santana asserted.

"But, if it means that you'll be visiting, Quinn, then we'll need to figure out the bedroom situation when Kurt gets back tomorrow. I don't want a repeat of this morning."

"That's fair," Quinn replied.

The lingering tension from the earlier incident and the current conversation slipped away, and all three women visibly relaxed. Santana settled back into the couch and propped her feet up on the table; Quinn mirrored Rachel's position and leaned slightly into Santana.

"You know," Santana started, the smirk growing on her face, "we could just use your bed, Rach."

The pillow smacked Santana in the face a lot faster than she had anticipated. Quinn laughed right along with Santana, and Rachel's look of feigned shock made it even funnier.

"Not a chance," Rachel finally said, her hand searching for another pillow behind her.

"Not even potentially?" Santana asked.

"Not even potentially."

Quinn leaned into Santana and brushed her lips against the shell of Santana's ear. "Save all that 'potentially' talk for me."

_Fin_.


End file.
